


A Modern Woman

by Sarahtoo



Series: Phrack Fucking Friday [7]
Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/M, I have no idea, Modern AU, Phrack Fucking Friday, Pre-S1, just a little something, pff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-07
Updated: 2017-04-07
Packaged: 2018-10-16 00:19:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10560200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarahtoo/pseuds/Sarahtoo
Summary: Jack Robinson, a cop in modern-day Melbourne, is out at a club with some friends. He's hanging out at the bar with a whiskey, minding his own business, when he spies a gorgeous raven-haired woman. He watches her dance, never dreaming that she's watching him, too.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I've been wanting to do a modern AU for a long time - since the first time I read aljohnson's [You Are Cordially Invited](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3470108), really - but I never had a real plot. So PFF it is. At least for now. :D

The club was dimly lit, the edges of the room almost dark, the dance floor and stage illuminated in flashes of color from the rotating lights on the ceiling. The music was loud, the beat louder, and Jack Robinson could feel it vibrating up through his feet where he stood with his back to the bar. The place smelled of alcohol, sweat, and dozens of perfumes—men’s scents and women’s—a miasma of olfactory sensation that was surprisingly not unpleasant. 

Jack lifted his whiskey glass to his nose, adding the sharp, peaty aroma to the rest before taking a sip and rolling it around on his tongue. He didn’t like being in crowds like this, shoulder to shoulder with so many people whose motivations he didn’t know, but since most of them appeared to have no motivation but to drink, dance, and hopefully get laid, it seemed harmless enough.

He’d staked out a spot at one end of the bar where he could see the dance floor and so, occasionally, the friends he’d come with. Jack didn’t like to leave room for unknown people to come up behind him—it was something that had made him particularly nervy since his time in the armed forces in Iraq—and this location also had the advantage of easy access to drink refills. 

The bar scene wasn’t really for him, but he’d come tonight because it was the six-month anniversary of his divorce and his mates had bullied him into it. Add to that the fact that it was his day off tomorrow, and this way he could have a few drinks in a socially acceptable way. He hadn’t said so to his mates, but he didn’t regret the divorce. His marriage to Rosie hadn’t really been more than sex and silence since he’d come back from his military service, and he hadn’t truly been surprised when she’d asked for the divorce. He wasn’t the man she married anymore, and at the end it was a relief not to continue disappointing her. 

He scanned the crowd looking for his friends, who had waded onto the dance floor among the crowd of writhing bodies and the flashing lights. He’d considered joining them, but he wasn’t much for dancing—or at least, not this kind of dancing. If he was going to dance, he preferred it to be slow and close, and a one-on-one kind of deal, not a crowd of people thrashing about. But he didn’t mind watching. It was better than staying home alone in his half-empty apartment with its scarce groupings of furniture that was all Rosie had left behind. He had his books, plus a bed and his armchair and his desk. He’d get around to replacing the rest eventually, but he didn’t deny that it wasn’t the most cheerful space.

Jack took another drink of his whiskey, his eyes catching on a specific woman in the stew of the dance floor. He’d seen her several times tonight, dancing with several different people—mostly with a red-haired woman, but occasionally with various men. _The friend she came with and guys who’d love to be more than friends_ , he thought. 

She was alluring, he had to admit. Her hair was deeply black and stick-straight; it was cut short, falling to her chin with no bangs, and so glossy that the lights painted streaks of color through it. She wore a silk halter top that left her back bare; its deep teal color made her arms, their only covering a gold bangle that clasped her left bicep, glow with an alabaster sheen. Her black leather pants clung to her ass, highlighting its round firmness, and the sky-high heels of her ankle boots explained at least part of what she did to keep that ass so firm.

Jack blinked, his own thoughts shocking him a little. He’d known that he was horny—six months of divorce proceedings and a reluctance to start anything new was wearing on him—but he didn’t usually look at women as if they were meat. He was certain this woman had a personality and intellect that were just as stunning as the points of her nipples against the silk of her blouse and the crimson slash of her lips. He’d really love to find out for sure—though he’d also love to have just one night with that body of hers, much as it shamed him to admit it. Sipping at his whiskey, he shook his head at himself. He didn’t do one-night stands, as a general rule—he found them unsatisfying—but as he was not ready to jump into a new relationship at this point, he wondered whether he should reconsider. 

Though even if he did reconsider, he probably didn’t stand a chance with that gorgeous woman. She undoubtedly had many offers to choose from, and a dour police inspector wasn’t likely to be high on her list. Still, a man could look, couldn’t he?

So he watched her, and he felt the pleasant weight of arousal building—there but not urgent—and he enjoyed his whiskey and the slight buzz it was giving him. 

As the song ended and another one began, he saw the woman in the halter mime taking a drink to her red-haired friend, and both women turned to make their way off the dance floor. She walked like a model, hips swaying, or maybe like a jungle cat, her eyes lazily focused on where she was going, her limbs deceptively loose. He watched as she fended off two or three men who tried to intercept her, sending each one on his way with a laugh and a shake of her head. Just before she reached the bar, she turned and walked down its length to step up beside Jack.

He told himself that it was coincidence, that the open space beside him was just the largest gap in the crowd, and he angled his body a little so that she had more room, trying not to stare. She set her elbows on the bar and leaned over to talk to the bartender, one foot lifting as she raised on the toes of the other. Unable to help himself, he swept his eyes down the naked expanse of her back—her skin looked incredibly soft—and over the inverted heart shape of her bottom. When he raised them again, it was to meet the sardonically amused gaze of her friend, who stood just behind her.

Jack smiled slightly, sheepish, and raised his whiskey in a toast to the redhead. He was shocked when the woman at his side turned her head to look at him. Her eyes were stunning—a pale blue-green with a dark ring around the irises, and the makeup she wore emphasized their brilliance.

“You know, if you’re going to watch me all night, the least you can do is buy me a drink,” she said. Her tone was light and flirtatious, and she wore a smirk that showed only a hint of white teeth against the deep red of her lipstick.

Jack looked over at her, meeting her eyes. “If every man who’s watching you buys you a drink tonight, I hope you’re planning to take a taxi home. It’s best for public safety if I abstain.” He kept his voice dry, pleased that though he felt her gaze like a kick in the stomach, he managed a calm delivery.

She laughed and stood up, turning to face him and taking a step closer, her hand lifting to toy with one of the buttons on his shirt. “There is that. Perhaps I need someone to see I get there. Are you the kind of man who’d take a girl safely to her door?”

“If that’s where she wanted to go,” he said, his voice low. 

“And would you take her farther?” Her voice had dropped, its sultry tone making her meaning clear. She flattened her hand on his chest, her thumb sweeping in small arcs across his pectoral muscle. Jack felt himself tensing slightly.

“As far as she was willing,” he admitted, shifting his weight toward her. 

“That sounds promising,” she purred, letting her thumb slip between his buttons to touch the skin of his chest. “What’s your name?”

“I’m Jack.” 

She turned away as the bartender brought two drinks over, a whiskey and a pale yellow something in a martini glass. Picking both up and sending a wink to the young man behind the bar, who answered with a grin, she turned to hand the whiskey to her friend.

“Hello, Jack,” she said, turning back to him and taking a sip of her drink. “I’m Phryne, and this is Mac.”

“Charmed,” Mac said. The red-haired woman looked indulgently at her friend and shook her head with an affectionate grin. She lifted the whiskey to her lips and took a healthy swallow, baring her teeth at the burn.

“Pleased to meet you,” Jack said, his tone admiring. Mac wore jeans and a man’s waistcoat over a buttoned shirt, her collar open and her sleeves rolled up. It looked great on her, but he could tell that she wasn’t out for that kind of attention. She met his eyes squarely, the message in hers clear: If he tried something her friend wasn’t receptive to, she’d be there to see that he was sorry. Jack nodded slightly.

“What do you do, Jack?” Phryne said, and he turned his attention back to her. She cupped her yellow martini in long fingers, looking up at him from over the sugared rim of the glass.

“I’m a cop,” he said, and watched her eyebrows rise. 

“Are you?” Her eyes sparkled with interest—they really were pretty—and she took a sip of her drink. “What kind of cop? Uniform? Murder? Vice?” On the last word, she arched a brow and touched her tongue to her top lip. 

Jack fought the urge to swallow, knowing that she’d intended him to feel this arousal. Absurdly, he wanted to hide his reaction from her as much as he could. This woman knew her own appeal, but he thought perhaps she would prefer someone who didn’t just lie down and let her walk on him. _Oh god, would I love to lie down for her, though. For her. Under her. On top of her._ He wrenched his thoughts back to the question she’d asked, letting his lips curve in a small smile.

“Homicide, mainly,” he replied. “Though I’m off duty either way.” He raised his whiskey to his lips.

“How fascinating,” Phryne said, tipping up her glass, her eyes roaming his face. Jack felt a moment of incredulity. How was this even happening?

“And what do you two do?” Jack said the words, more to be polite than because he truly cared. 

“Mac’s a doctor, and I… well, I’m between jobs at the moment,” Phryne shrugged, and Jack’s attention was caught by the motion of her breasts under her halter. He dragged his eyes back to hers, then looked over at Mac.

“A doctor?”

She nodded. “Teaching hospital.”

“Ah,” he nodded, as if that meant anything to him, his eyes returning to Phryne. _Her eyes are really pretty._

Mac rolled her eyes, but not as if she was angry. “Well,” she said, throwing back the last of her drink, “I’m off. You’re covered for the evening?” She directed the question to Phryne, her eyes searching. 

“Oh yes, I think I’ll be quite well taken care of,” Phryne said with a smile, casting a glance at Jack before turning to her friend. “You good?”

“Yep,” Mac said, leaning past Phryne to set her glass on the bar. “Be good—or at least, be safe. Call me later.” She kissed Phryne on the cheek and eyed Jack. “It was nice to meet you, Jack.”

“You too,” he said, reflexively. He wasn’t sure what was going on, but the two women had seemed to have a whole conversation in a glance and a few words, and he thought that Phryne’s friend was leaving her… with him.

Mac nodded, a smirk curling the corner of her mouth, and turned to walk away. Phryne drained her martini glass and set her glass on the bar, then turned and slid her hand down Jack’s arm to twine her fingers into his. Her skin was soft and her hand was warm. Jack looked at her, uncomprehending. She smiled softly and stepped close, stretching up on her toes to speak directly into his ear.

“Dance with me, Jack,” she said, “and then let’s go somewhere private.” She licked his earlobe into her mouth, biting it softly, and Jack shivered. Was this really happening?

It seemed it was. When he nodded, Phryne took his empty glass and set it beside hers on the bar, then led him to the dance floor, where she pulled him into the mass of bodies. She stepped close, pressing up against his chest, her hands on his shoulders. In her heels, she wasn’t much shorter than he was, and she fit as if she was made for him. Jack placed his hands on her hips, swaying lightly, conscious of the fact that she could probably feel his burgeoning arousal. She didn’t seem to mind, because she slid her arms around his neck, moving closer still, and Jack’s hands moved almost of their own accord, one sliding up her naked back, the other wrapping her waist to hold at her opposite hip.

Her skin was as soft as he’d imagined, and he met her eyes as they moved around the dance floor. The rest of the crowd seemed to melt away, and Jack found his feet moving in the steps of a waltz he thought he’d long forgotten. Phryne followed his lead, never moving away, and he relished the warmth of her body against his. As they continued to dance, Phryne’s breasts rubbed against his chest and her fingers played with the short hairs at the back of his neck.

“Kiss me, Jack,” she whispered, as they spun in their own little world.

So he did. Lowering his head, he caught her mouth with his, his eyes fluttering shut. She tasted of lip dye and lemons—maybe that martini—and her tongue slid over his, welcoming his invasion. Jack’s hand on her waist slid down to her bottom, his fingers spreading over her ass. Phryne whimpered slightly, and she slid her hand down from his neck to press flat against his chest. Jack lifted his head. 

Phryne licked her lips, her eyes heavy-lidded. “Let’s get out of here,” she said, her thumb brushing his hardened nipple through the fabric of his shirt. 

Struck dumb, Jack nodded, and Phryne released him to lead him off the dance floor. As they moved, Jack caught the eye of one of his mates, who grinned and nodded. Jack smiled back, a little sheepish. This hadn’t been his intention tonight, but if it was going to happen, he wouldn’t say no.

Phryne tugged Jack’s hand, and he followed her out of the club to the taxi stand. 

“Wait,” Jack said, suddenly remembering, “I have a car. This way.” He turned and pulled lightly at her. She resisted for a moment. “Unless you’d rather take a cab?” When she continued to hesitate without answering, he nodded, understanding. “Do you want to send a photo of me and my car to your friend?”

“I would, actually,” Phryne said, raising her knee and fishing a thin cell phone out of the top of her boot.

“Smart girl,” he said, and stood still while she snapped a photo of his face. “My car’s over this way.” He led the way, his hand in hers companionable rather than urgent. Fishing his keys out of his pocket, he let go of her hand to pop the locks on his SUV. Phryne took a photo and then stood a moment, presumably texting her friend. When she looked up at him, he smiled, at ease, and opened the passenger door, holding it as he gave a sweeping bow. With a grin, she sashayed past him to climb onto the seat. He closed the door and went around to the driver’s side to climb in.

“Where are we going?” He fastened his seatbelt and started the car, his eyes on her. “We can go to my place, but it’s rather ugly at the moment—my ex had first choice of our furniture.”

“I have a suite at the Windsor,” she responded, curling up in the seat to face him, her hand reaching to settle on his knee. “Let’s go there.”

Jack nodded, and drove. In the ten minutes it took them to cross town, Phryne’s hands stroked every part of his body that she could reach—knee, thigh, waist, chest, shoulders, arms—though she avoided his groin. Not that it mattered—he was hard as stone already. He kept both hands on the wheel, knowing that if he didn’t, he’d drive them off the road, too busy touching her to pay attention. 

When he pulled up at the hotel, he’d barely turned off the engine and unfastened his seatbelt when she swung herself over the console and climbed into his lap, her knees to either side of his hips. She took his face in her hands and kissed him again, her mouth hot against his.

With a muffled grunt, Jack kissed her back, his hands going around her to grasp her ass, lifting his hips to press his erection into the warmth between her thighs. She reached back to grasp his wrist, pulling his hand up to cover her breast through the thin silk of her halter. He cupped her, his thumb and forefinger grasping her nipple as she ground against him. Sliding his hand sideways, he pushed into the open side of her blouse, baring her breast in the warm darkness of the car, his fingers kneading her flesh. Growling, he tore his mouth away from hers to drop his head to her breast, licking her nipple into his mouth. 

Phryne whimpered, one arm wrapping around to press his head closer as she rocked against his hardness. Suckling strongly, he moved his hand to cup between her legs, his thumb working against the leather of her pants until he found the spot that made her gasp; he worked that spot, pressing and rubbing, listening to her frantic noises.

“Oh god, oh fuck, yes, there, please,” she murmured, a long string of sound that both had meaning and didn’t. 

Jack lifted his head from her breast and pulled his hand from her ass to brush aside the other side of her halter so that he could cover her other nipple and give it the same treatment as the first. Phryne’s hands fisted in the longer top layer of his hair, and he felt her breath on his ear as she traced its edges with first her tongue and then her teeth, her hips working against his thumb and the pressure of his hand between her legs until finally her climax hit.

“Ohhhh, god! Yes!” Phryne’s arms around his neck tightened hard, and her knees pressed against his hips as her body shuddered in release. She pressed kisses to his neck and temple, her smile soft and replete. 

Jack raised his head to look at her, her silk halter bunched between two beautiful breasts peaked with lovely pink nipples, reddened from the suction of his mouth, and pointing sharply upward. He smiled slightly, licking his lips.

“Do I still get to come in?” He said, his voice lower than usual. 

Phryne leaned down to kiss him, her hands moving to hook the sides of her halter and pull it back over her breasts.

“I don’t know,” she said, and he could feel her smile against his mouth. “Can you make me come like that again?”

“I will give it my very best attempt,” he said, pushing his hard cock up against her softness.

She laughed. “Then let’s get up to my room and put you through your paces.” Reaching over, she opened the driver’s door and slid out. Jack retrieved his keys and followed, locking the door and then taking a moment to pull his shirt down over his crotch—he was thankful he’d worn it untucked, and that it was long enough to afford him at least a little modesty as they walked through the lobby.

Phryne turned from where she’d walked a few steps away.

“Come on, Jack!” She called, laughter in her voice. “You have work to do!”

Jack grinned and jogged gingerly to catch up, moving up behind her to put both hands on her hips. He ducked his head to press a kiss to her neck, and she raised an arm to the back of his head.

“Mmm, keep that up, and I won’t be able to wait till we’re inside,” she purred, tilting her head to give him better access. 

Jack pushed closer, pressing his erection into the softness of her bottom as he slid his hands up the front of her blouse to cup her breasts, enjoying her pleasured sigh. He caressed her softly, then let his hands drop away and took a step back.

“Let’s go then,” he said, holding out a hand. With a grin, Phryne put her hand in his and they headed inside.

It was all Jack could do to keep his hands off of Phryne as they moved into the hotel. The lobby was empty except for the front-desk staff, and they cut through to the elevators. As they stood waiting for the lift to come, she wrapped herself around his arm, and her eyes laughed up at him. 

“Have you ever had sex in an elevator, Jack?” Her voice was a whisper, though had anyone been standing with them, it would have been audible.

“I have not, and I’m not going to start today,” he replied, eyeing her narrowly. Truth was, although he hadn’t known her long, he thought that she could probably convince him that it was a good idea. 

“Spoilsport,” she murmured as the elevator dinged and the doors slid open.

As it happened, a group of people dashed for the lift as Phryne and Jack were pressing the button for her fourth-floor room. The party of young people laughed and talked among themselves, and Jack and Phryne stood, unnoticed, in the back corner of the elevator. He felt her hand pull away from his arm and slide down his back to squeeze his bottom, then tuck under his shirt. Her fingers traced the top edge of his waistband, slipping into the dip of his spine to trail along his buttocks. Jack ducked his head to whisper in her ear.

“You’re playing with fire.”

She smiled guilelessly up at him and pushed her small hand into his waistband, her middle finger touching the crease of his bottom. Jack drew in a breath. 

The other party exited elevator on the third floor, and the moment the doors closed, Jack turned to press Phryne up against the side of the car, his mouth coming down on hers in a passionate kiss. Phryne kissed him back, her tongue sweet in his mouth. The distance to the fourth floor seemed simultaneously long, as Jack catalogued her flavor and the texture of her tongue and teeth, and short, as the doors swished open on her floor. Panting, Jack lifted his head to look at her, but didn’t move until the elevator doors started to close. He shot out a hand to catch them and took a step away from Phryne.

“Lead the way,” he said, his words rumbling in his chest.

Phryne stepped around him, her hand on his waist sweeping across his front to give a firm squeeze to his cock. Jack bit back a groan. He stayed a couple of steps behind her as she walked down the hall to a door at the end of the corridor. She raised her knee again to fish her keycard out of the top of the boot that wasn’t holding her phone, and Jack swallowed at the sight of her leather pants tightening across her bottom. Phryne slid the card into the door lock, then pushed the door open, throwing a glance at Jack over her shoulder.

Jack smirked, stepping close to her back and setting his hands on her hips. Phryne laid one hand over his and smiled as they stepped through the doorway. Jack glanced up, intending only to see which direction the bed was, then did a double-take. The room was out-of-this-world luxurious—the door opened into a good-sized room that held an actual living-room-style seating area with a television and long couch alongside a dining area with a table and four chairs. He could see the bedroom through a doorway on one side of the room, and it was large enough to hold an enormous bed and another, smaller seating area. The suite was done up in a kind of antique-modern fusion, with elaborate chandeliers and curlicued wood alongside metal accents and simple furnishings. It was jarring, but it worked, and the overall impression was attractive and funky.

“Wow, some digs,” he said, realizing he’d stopped just past the doorway.

“I like it,” she replied, turning to face him and looping her arms around his neck. “It’ll do till I find a place of my own. I only arrived in town yesterday.”

He grinned. “And the first thing you did was go out dancing?”

Her smile was sly. “Of course! How else would I have found such delightful company?” With that, she gave a small jump, wrapping her legs around Jack’s waist; his hands dropped to cup her bottom automatically, and she brought her lips to within a breath of his.

“That’s enough socializing, Jack,” she said, her tongue flicking out to trace the deep dip of his upper lip. “Let’s do something else.”

“Like what?” He said, his eyes closing halfway as he began to walk through the living area to the bedroom. “Board game? Charades?”

“Mmm, I’m thinking maybe Twister,” she purred, sucking his lower lip into her mouth. “ _Naked_ Twister.”

“I’m intrigued,” he said, smirking. 

Phryne tightened her legs around his waist, pressing herself against the hardness of his cock, and kissed him just as he stepped up to the bed. Jack kissed her back, his tongue sliding along hers, his hands pulling her even closer to push himself into her heat.

Breaking the kiss, Phryne swung her legs down, and Jack’s hands trailed up her sides, tracing the edge of her halter.

“Get naked, Jack,” she said, taking a step back and reaching to her waistband to undo the button of her pants.

Jack held her eyes as he reached behind his neck to tug his shirt off without unbuttoning it; at the same time, he toed off his shoes.

“What are you waiting for, Phryne?” He said, his hands on his waistband. He unzipped—carefully—and shucked his jeans. He hooked his socks with his fingers as he stepped out, then straightened, wearing nothing but snug blue boxer briefs. 

Phryne’s smile grew as he stripped off, her eyes dropping to his groin, and he smiled a little, passing his hand over his hard length, outlined faithfully by the soft cotton of his underwear. She leaned down to unzip her boots and remove them, then shimmied her leather pants down her hips. The halter she wore turned out to be camiknickers, and she lifted her arms to release the hook behind her neck, letting the silk slither down across her breasts. Jack sucked in a breath and stepped closer.

“Let me help you with that,” he said, stepping into her and pushing her gently backward to the bed, his hands on her hips and his eyes on her breasts. Phryne moved with him, scooting up onto the bed; Jack stopped her before she went too far and hooked his fingers into the fabric at her hips. He met her eyes, raising his eyebrows, and she nodded. With one swift tug, the garment was on the floor and Jack was back between her knees.

If it was possible, he thought she was even more beautiful naked than she had been clothed. He admired her small breasts with their fuller undercurves and the curve of her belly and waist; her mons was topped with a neat patch of dark hair, and she pulled her heels up onto the mattress to open herself to his gaze.

“Gorgeous,” he breathed, moving in to trail kisses down the inside of her thighs. He could smell her arousal already, sweet and earthy, and he felt himself grow impossibly harder. Sliding his hands under her legs to hold her hips in place, he buried his face in her sex, letting his tongue learn the shape of her and her most sensitive places.

“Oh shit, Jack,” she groaned, and he felt her hands in his hair. 

He licked and nibbled and sucked at her, using his fingers and his tongue in response to her moans and sighs. He batted gently at her clit with his tongue, sliding two fingers into her body to look for her g-spot, and when he found it, she writhed against the bedcovers.

“Not enough, not enough,” she chanted finally, pulling at his hair. “I need more—I need you to fuck me.” 

Jack lifted his head, his eyes blurry, and it took a moment for him to register what she was saying.

“ _NOW, Jack_ ,” she said, pulling harder at his hair.

With a nod, he stood and pushed off his underwear, then stepped over to the crumpled pile of his jeans to fish the condom out of his wallet. He hadn’t needed one for a while, but he’d made it a habit as a teen—at his father’s insistence—to carry one with him, and he was grateful for that lesson now. 

“Jack,” she called, and he looked over at her. She was propped up on her elbows, her thighs wide, and the sight of her pussy, glistening from his mouth and her own juices, drew a growl from Jack. Her eyes were on his cock, and she licked her lips. “Hurry!”

He ripped into the condom wrapper with his teeth, and rolled the thing on as quickly as he could before joining Phryne on the bed. She reached her arms out to welcome him as he crawled up and over her, sliding her hands up his arms to his shoulders. Not wasting any time, Jack positioned his cock at her entrance and bent to touch his forehead to hers as he pushed himself inside her body until he felt his scrotum touch her bottom. 

“Yes…” she hissed, her hands cupping the back of his head. “Oh fuck, yes.”

“You feel so good,” he rumbled, pulling his hips back to slide almost all the way out before impaling her again.

“Oh my god, do that again!” Phryne’s voice was low and when he obliged her, she moaned, tilting her head back against the bed. 

Jack took advantage of the long line of her neck to press his mouth there, one hand moving up her body to cup her breast. Deep within her, he pressed closer. The clasp of her pussy around his cock was fantastic, her skin so soft that he wanted to just revel in her. He bent his back to lick her nipple, and Phryne keened.

“More,” she panted. “Again!”

Jack swept his hips in that same long stroke a third time, and Phryne shattered, her orgasm making her muscles spasm. Jack gritted his teeth, reciting footy scores in his head in an attempt to keep from coming as her internal muscles milked his cock. He pulsed against her as she relaxed. Her eyes opened, her lids heavy, and she smiled—a smile so sweet that he felt a little clutch around his heart that he quickly shook off, smiling back.

“Good?” he said, and she nodded.

“Mmm, very good.” She licked her lips and moaned as he began to move inside her again, shorter, sharper thrusts now. Phryne raised her knees to lightly grasp the sides of his ribcage, and Jack picked up speed, propping himself up on his hands.

Before long, his focus had narrowed to the slide of his flesh into hers and the building tension in his balls. When Phryne lifted her head to lightly scrape his nipple with her teeth, he came with a shout, his control broken, his hips pressing hard into her as he shuddered with release. Phryne let her head drop back against the bed and Jack rolled off of her, his chest heaving.

“Holy shit,” he said quietly.

“That was wonderful,” she replied, turning her head to smile at him.

He looked back at her, knowing that his grin was likely a bit on the goofy side. It had been a while since he’d had the opportunity—or the desire—to come with another person in the room, and this had been one for the record books. He wondered if she would be willing to go another round once he’d caught his breath.

“Be right back,” he murmured, rolling to sit up, his hand at his crotch to anchor the condom. 

He moved into the bathroom and disposed of it, taking a moment to splash water on his sweaty face. He looked at himself in the mirror, pushing damp fingers through his hair to straighten the lock that had fallen over his forehead. He could feel his heart pounding, and the heaviness of release still lingered in his belly. Grinning at himself, he considered how he’d take her a second time—if he wanted to be asked back into her bed, he’d have to show her just how good he could make her feel. 

_Hold on there, Jacko. Are you actually thinking that this might be more than a one-time deal?_ His smile faded. Even if Phryne was willing, he knew himself well enough to know that if he fucked her again—tonight or another night—he’d be halfway to involved, and he was pretty sure that wouldn’t be good for his heart. She didn’t seem like the relationship type, and he was too traditional for anything else. And even if she was the relationship type, he didn’t think he had it in him to get serious about another woman yet. 

“Shit.” He straightened, his mouth taking on its usual serious slant. He was going to have to go. Now.

Moving back into the bedroom, he looked over to Phryne, who’d tucked herself into the big bed. He plastered what he hoped was a confident smile onto his face and reached for his clothes, stepping into his undershorts and picking up his shirt to pull it over his head.

“Are you going?” Phryne sat up, holding the sheet to her chest, a small pout on her face. “I was hoping you could stay a while longer.” She licked her lips, leaning forward. “I have a couple of other games I wanted to play.”

Jack shook his head as he stepped into his jeans and slid his feet back into his socks.

“I can’t,” he said softly, and moved over to her to press a kiss to her lips. “This was _amazing_ , but I have to work tomorrow.” That last was a lie, and he didn’t like how it felt on his tongue, but what else could he say? _If I stay, I’ll want more from this than a single night, and I’m not ready for that? It’s not you, it’s me?_ Seriously, no. This was better.

Phryne grasped his collar and pulled him closer, her tongue slipping between his lips as she kissed him again. Jack groaned softly, but pulled away.

“I really can’t, Phryne.” He kissed her again, softly, before standing to gather up his shoes and wallet. “Thank you for a wonderful time.” He smiled at her, his eyes cataloguing everything about her, from the way her pale shoulders glowed against the white sheets to the messy cap of black hair atop her head and her bright blue-green eyes. 

“Then good night, Jack. Maybe I’ll see you around.” Phryne’s tone was far too knowing—he wondered how many of the men she slept with fell in love with her. Most of them, probably. 

With a small, awkward wave, he made his way out of the suite, his stocking feet making no noise against the plush carpet. He didn’t stop to put on his shoes until he was all the way down the hall, waiting for the elevator. Not because he thought she’d follow him, but because if he stopped, he wasn’t sure he could keep himself from going back. 

_It’ll be better this way._ He probably wouldn’t see her again—it wasn’t as if he went to that club, or any club, on a regular basis, and Melbourne wasn’t a small town. When the elevator doors closed behind him, he let his head fall back against the wall with a thump. _Better this way. Right._

He kept telling himself that for the next three days, as he dreamed of her every night, and sometimes during the day—her scent, the feel of her skin, the sounds she made when he was pleasuring her. 

So when his constable came to tell him that a woman wanted to speak to him about his newest case—a man who’d died at home, in his bathroom, in some kind of agonizing pain, judging by the fetal position in which his body had been found—it was almost without surprise that he saw that pale back, bared by a low-cut dress in gauzy red and white. What he couldn’t decide was whether the feeling in his heart was joy or fear. This woman would either be the making or the ruin of him. Clenching his jaw, he stepped forward to find out which one.


End file.
